


Aurora

by gemjam



Series: Kairos [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Control, D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark tries to come to terms with fantasy becoming reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aurora

_Aurora_  
_Origin: Latin_  
_(n.) the interaction of energetic particles (electrons and protons) from outside the atmosphere with atoms of the upper atmosphere resulting in a brilliant display of bands or folds of variously coloured light in the sky at night, especially in polar regions; the dawn or rise of something_

 

He thinks for a long time before he sends the first text message. He strips everything down in his head, takes it back to the parts of this that held the original appeal for him. It all comes down to control, giving it up, having it taken away from him. So much of his career revolves around being in control, of himself, of his car, of his surroundings, all of it in high pressure and high speed situations. He can’t imagine anything more freeing than having all of that taken away from him, not even his own body being a concern to him anymore.

Even after what he’s done with Jenson, it’s still a scary prospect though. He knows he trusts Jenson, knows that Jenson would never do anything to deliberately hurt him, but when you give someone everything, there are so many ways that they can take advantage without even realising it. With a pounding heart and a slightly shaky hand, he writes out the first message.

_From: Mark_  
17.37  
No humiliation. 

After setting that rule in place, he finds it a bit easier to let his imagination run free. The second day he lays in bed, hand around his cock, all manner of filthy scenarios running through his head, the kinds of thoughts he usually doesn’t let himself linger on for too long. After he comes, he wipes his sticky hand off on the sheets, fantasies still so fresh in his mind, and types out another message.

_From: Mark_  
08.26  
Orgasm denial. 

He considers the text message while he showers and starts to second guess himself. Will Jenson think this isn’t sexual to him? Will he think he has some kind of chastity thing? The thought sends him into a tailspin, it couldn’t be further from the truth, and he finds it hard to push the idea from his brain all day. Shortly after midnight, he wonders if it’s cheating to send his third text now, it’s the third day of his task strictly speaking, but he forces himself to sleep on it. Still, it’s the first thought in his head when he wakes up in the morning, reaching for his phone.

_From: Mark_  
07.12  
Forced orgasm. 

As soon as he hits send, he feels like a total idiot. All he’s done is completely contradict his last message and made his intentions about as clear as mud. He groans, burying himself under the covers until he hears the dogs fussing and knows he needs to get up. The thoughts chase him around all day though, his monotonous workout giving them room to grow and consume him. This time he does send the next day’s message shortly after midnight, unable to wait any longer.

_From: Mark_  
00.04  
Orgasm control. You decide how and when I come. 

He goes to bed, closing his eyes and trying to switch off, but the bright light of his phone soon demands his attention.

_From: Jenson_  
00.17  
You just wasted 3 days telling me 1 thing. New rule: send me things as they occur to you. Corrections and clarifications definitely welcome. 

Another text follows almost immediately afterwards.

_From: Jenson_  
00.18  
By the way, it’s the middle of the fucking night, go to sleep! 

Mark can’t help but smile. He puts the phone down, snuggling contentedly into his duvet and doing as he’s told.

Over the next few days he sends Jenson several text messages, his mind almost constantly in the gutter as a result, but he finds it’s freeing to let his thoughts go to these places, to have it mean something to him now. He explores the possibilities in his head and then he sends the keywords on to Jenson, building up a patchwork that he has faith Jenson will be able to turn into something very rewarding. The day before Jenson is due to visit, Mark receives a text in return.

_From: Jenson_  
18.46  
What’s your bed like? 

Mark frowns at the message, wondering what kind of response Jenson could possibly be looking for, when he remembers his bed in France, holding onto the headboard, Jenson asking if bondage was a yes.

_From: Mark_  
18.50  
You can’t tie me to it. 

_From: Jenson_  
18.52  
Shame. Guess I’ll just have to be creative then. 

A little shudder of anticipation goes through Mark that makes him want to put his hand down his pants again, something he’d been doing embarrassingly frequently this week.

The next day he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He has too much nervous energy and while he wants to take the edge off he’s wary of losing it completely. If this goes anything like he’s hoping, that hit of adrenaline will be something he’ll be grateful for. He decides to take the dogs for a long walk, the steady pace giving him something to focus on while the scenery grounds him.

For lunch he loads up on the kinds of foods he eats before a workout and then starts to feel foolish. France was good, definitely top 5 material, and Mark’s not willing to admit any more than that even to himself at this stage, but it was just sex. He’s treating this like he’s about to enter some kind of endurance event and he’s going to end up disappointed if he keeps building it up in his head. If anyone built this up though it’s Jenson, forcing Mark to not only acknowledge what he wants but also admit to it. Maybe nothing can ever really live up to the headspace that put him into.

The doorbell rings and Mark’s stomach turns over, even as he feels a dull throb of arousal in his cock. He forces himself to take a couple of deep breaths before he gets to his feet, trying to push all of his expectations away. He has to let this be whatever it’s going to be. He has to be grateful for whatever Jenson is willing to give him.

“Afternoon,” Jenson greets, smiling in that charming way that Mark’s never been quite as immune to as he’d like to be.

“Alright, mate,” Mark greets, stepping aside to let Jenson get past him. He closes the door behind them both and it feels so very final. He turns, already chewing on his lip before he realises what he’s doing. It’s been such a long week and yet it doesn’t seem like two seconds since Jenson had him laid out on that bed, pulling him apart. Jenson’s eyes slide up and down him and make him feel far too exposed. He shifts on his feet. “Do you want a drink?” he offers.

Jenson shakes his head, still checking Mark out. He suddenly seems to snap out of it, meeting Mark’s eyes. “We can. If you want.”

“I’m good, mate,” Mark assures him. “Your call.”

“My call,” Jenson considers, his lips pressing together into a thoughtful pout. “That’s the idea here? I just do what I want with you?”

“Pretty much,” Mark agrees.

He nods his head, still looking contemplative as he moves slowly towards Mark. “I liked your text messages.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks, edging back slightly, feeling like he’s about to be pounced on.

“Gave me a lot to think about,” Jenson says. He steps up close to Mark, crowding him, their bodies brushing together but not quite touching. “I didn’t know some of those things existed.”

Mark frowns, trying to work out what was so extraordinary in his list of kinks. That’s probably not the point though, Jenson just wants to put him on the back foot. He wants him squirmy and submissive and Mark’s only too happy to go there with him.

Jenson reaches up, sliding his hand over Mark’s cheek, fingers going to cup the back of his head, and Mark can feel his lips part in response. Jenson doesn’t hesitate to take advantage, surging forward and pressing their mouths insistently together, pushing his tongue inside. It’s like being devoured, the intensity of it making Mark shiver, feeling every hair on his body stand up, and a kiss definitely shouldn’t be able to make him feel like this. He feels Jenson smile against him and something inside him makes him feel proud that Jenson is pleased with him. Mark practically melts against him embarrassingly quickly, but it’s easy to give in when you know that’s what’s expected of you. It’s that freedom that Mark has craved for all this time.

Jenson pulls back, waiting for Mark to open his eyes before speaking again. He’s still close, so close that Mark’s sure they’re breathing the same air, and there’s an intimacy to it that makes him want to fall right back into Jenson.

“I brought presents,” Jenson says, his voice low and full of promise.

Mark blinks at him, swallowing. “Yeah?”

“Wanna see?” Jenson asks. Mark nods his head. “Show me where your bedroom is then.”

Mark makes to step away but Jenson doesn’t move back and Mark doesn’t have space between him and the counter to get away. “Uh,” he tries uncertainly, giving Jenson a questioning look.

Jenson gives him a predatory smile and steps out of the way. He can feel Jenson’s eyes on him as he leads the way out of the room, knows they must be focussed on his arse as they go up the stairs. It makes him feel too hot, practically naked already, Jenson’s touch clinging to him. He licks his lips as he opens his bedroom door, reliving the kiss in his mind. That kind of power and possession was something he never thought he’d really be able to find.

Jenson steps up behind him, arms going around Mark’s waist. “Really is a shame about that headboard,” he murmurs, nuzzling against Mark’s neck. “I was having some lovely visuals before you broke that one to me.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks, trying to keep his voice level.

“Mmmm,” Jenson agrees, gripping Mark’s hips and turning him around, his hands sliding to Mark’s arse and pulling their bodies flush together. He leans in, mouth so close to Mark’s, but he doesn’t kiss him. Instead he teases, brushing his lips against Mark’s with the slightest pressure before shifting away. He does it again, a rhythm of near misses and light tickles that Mark can’t predict. He moves his own mouth in response, trying to capture a kiss, but Jenson is always one step ahead of him. It makes Mark feels embarrassingly breathless and needy. He lets out a whine, cutting himself off halfway to try and hide it, but he can feel Jenson grin triumphantly against him.

“How had I never considered how much fun it would be to do this with someone?” Jenson asks, something like wonder in his voice.

Mark’s instinct is to give him a disparaging look or roll his eyes but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, doesn’t want to lose the mindset he can feel start to cloud around him. Jenson’s face softens as he considers Mark for a moment and then he leans in, placing a firm kiss on his lips before stepping back.

“Let’s get on the bed,” he says. “Yeah?”

Mark gives a little nod and something like a shrug, trying to express that there’s really no need to check with him; what Jenson wants, Jenson gets. The thought sends a thrill through Mark as he lies himself back on the bed, hoping he looks like an offering and not the gangly, awkward figure that he is. Jenson drops his bag down by the side of the bed within reaching distance, climbing onto the bed and straddling Mark’s hips. It’s a move that’s starting to feel familiar to Mark already. He likes the intimacy of it, the solid weight of Jenson against him, the heat and the promise and the power.

Jenson just sits there for a moment, considering him. His eyes run over Mark’s body, appraising him, and Mark both loves and hates how that makes him feel. Jenson licks his lips, reaching down and pushing his hands beneath the hem of Mark’s T-shirt, fingertips skimming over Mark’s stomach as he pushes the material upwards.

“There’s things,” Mark says brokenly. “If you need.”

“Things?” Jenson asks, the word drawn out and intrigued.

“Drawer by the bed,” Mark grits out.

Jenson grins, sitting back up. “What kinds of things? Hardcore pornography and sex toys?” Mark snorts a tense laugh. Jenson reaches over, opening the drawer and looking inside. Mark can’t quite read his face as he pulls out the box of condoms and bottle of lubricant. He studies them for a moment as though he doesn’t quite recognise them.

“Condoms are new,” he says, almost to himself. “Lube is old.” Mark doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t bother responding. Jenson looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

“Okay,” Mark agrees.

“Yeah,” Jenson says vaguely, looking back down at his hands. He turns the box of condoms over, reading the back of the packet like he doesn’t know how to use them. “It’s probably none of my business.”

“What isn’t?” Mark asks.

Jenson sighs, letting his hands fall down to his thighs as he focuses on Mark again. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting across the room. Mark shifts uncomfortably under him. Jenson meets his eyes, still looking apprehensive.

“Just fucking ask, mate,” Mark blurts out. “How can it be worse than all the stuff I’ve been texting you all week?”

Jenson smiles slightly before setting his face back into that thoughtful expression. “Well, there’s one thing you didn’t say. One thing you didn’t mention. And I can’t work out if it’s because it’s a given, or because you have no interest in it. But you have condoms. But they’re not open.”

Mark frowns. “What are you asking?”

“You never mentioned fucking,” Jenson says, clearly deciding bluntness is the quickest way to get this over with. “So I don’t know if you have or if you’d want to...”

“I have,” Mark cuts in.

“You have?” Jenson asks. “With a guy, right?”

Mark nods. “With a guy.”

“Okay,” Jenson says, looking at the condoms again. “Good to know. Okay.” He looks up at Mark. “I mean, that’s not what I had planned for today. But I can go there?”

Mark smiles. “You can go wherever you want, mate. That’s the point.”

Jenson sags slightly, looking relieved. “Keep hold of these then,” he says, dropping the condoms and lube back into the drawer and sliding it shut. “I definitely intend to make use of them.”

Mark bites down on the inside of his lip, unable to stop the images from playing out in his mind. Jenson turns back to face him fully, hands going down to the hem of his T-shirt again.

“You think about that?” he asks. “Me fucking you?” Mark shrugs, squirming slightly beneath him, unable to hold his gaze. “I asked you a question,” Jenson says pointedly, pushing Mark’s T-shirt upwards, exposing his nipples.

“I guess,” Mark mumbles, still not able to look at him.

“Excuse me?” Jenson asks, angling his ear towards Mark like he can’t hear him.

“Yes,” Mark says, the word loud but exasperated.

“So how do we do it?” Jenson asks, fingertips running over Mark’s nipples in a way that could be accidental but definitely isn’t. “What’s your favourite? From behind, face to face, bent over something, all fours, tied to the bed so you can’t fucking move and just have to take it?”

“Fuck,” Mark breathes, his cock unbearably hard and he knows that Jenson can feel it.

“Arms up,” Jenson prompts. Mark complies, lifting his shoulders from the bed as Jenson strips him of his T-shirt. “I definitely want to do it face to face,” Jenson tells him, working the button of Mark’s jeans open. “Do you have any idea what you look like when you come? I don’t want to miss that.” He pulls down Mark’s zipper, the vibration making Mark’s cock throb. “If I let you come,” Jenson adds. He grips Mark’s waistband. “Hips.”

Mark lifts up his hips, Jenson pulling his jeans and underwear down his body in one go. Jenson settles himself back astride Mark’s thighs, leaning forward to stroke his fingers up and down Mark’s side.

“You’re fit though,” he says. “You must be flexible. Right? Be a shame to put that to waste.”

Mark closes his eyes, turns his face away, concentrating on that tickly feeling that somehow seems to heighten all his senses. “You talk too much.”

“So talk back,” Jenson tells him. Mark shakes his head. “You don’t get your presents until you speak to me.”

Mark opens his eyes, frowning up at Jenson. “Why do you get off on listening to me spill my darkest secrets?”

Jenson leans right over him, the material of his T-shirt skimming over Mark’s dick, and Mark’s not sure if that’s what makes him shudder of the breathy whisper in his ear. “Who wouldn’t get off on that?” Mark closes his eyes. “Just tell me one.”

“In Monaco,” Mark replies. He opens his eyes but doesn't quite meet Jenson’s. “That night, when... I think about that a lot, think about how I wanted it to go.”

“And how is that?” Jenson prompts.

Mark takes a breath. “I wish you’d fucked me. You had me pinned down and you were right there and I couldn’t touch myself, no control, and it was just... Yeah, that would be a good one.”

“Yeah?” Jenson asks.

Mark lifts his eyes up, daring to look at Jenson who is staring down at him, mouth slightly open, eyes dark. “Mate, you’ve got no idea.”

Jenson seems stuck in his reverie for a moment before he snaps himself out of it. “Okay, you definitely get a present for that.” He leans over the side of the bed, retrieving his bag. “This actually came free on the flight, but I thought of you.” He pulls out a cheap sleepmask, still in its little plastic packet. “You like?”

Mark nods. It’s not a lie, but he has to admit he’s a little disappointed. A repeat of their last encounter wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he reminds himself to be grateful for whatever he gets.

“Thank you,” he says. It feels like the right thing to do.

Jenson leans forwards and Mark obediently lifts his head, allowing Jenson to slip it on. It’s more comfortable than the bulky material they used last time, no knot to stick in the back of his head, and the smooth material feels cool against his closed eyelids. It’s soothing, but when Jenson almost immediately climbs off him he feels himself flail, instinctively reaching out towards him.

“Just getting undressed,” Jenson assures him. “I’m coming back.”

“I never get to watch you strip,” Mark complains.

“That’s because your body is for me, right?” Jenson asks. “So I get to see you, but you have to earn me.”

Mark lets out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“You’re so easy,” Jenson says fondly.

Mark feels him sit back down on the bed but he doesn’t straddle Mark’s hips again, doesn’t touch him at all, and Mark shifts, making a noise that he hopes sounds more questioning than needy.

“I really could do anything right now, couldn’t I?” Jenson muses.

“Yes,” Mark agrees.

Jenson moves closer, his thigh pressing against Mark’s. “You’re not going to make me work for it even a little bit?” he teases. Mark shakes his head. “Slut,” Jenson breathes, the word making Mark’s lips part, his whole body surging with arousal. Jenson’s fingers slide down his arm, taking hold of his hand. “I have one more present for you,” he says. “And I’m _definitely_ making you work for it.”

He pulls Mark’s hand into his lap, encouraging Mark to wrap his fingers around his cock. Mark murmurs a noise of approval, closing his fingers eagerly and beginning to stroke. The angle isn’t exactly perfect but Mark kind of likes that. He might not want to admit it but being put out of his comfort zone just takes him deeper into this, makes him feel ever more reliant on Jenson.

Mark listens intently, tunes himself into Jenson, looking for cues, tells of how he’s doing, but Jenson gives him nothing. He can feel Jenson harden further against him, can feel his cock getting thicker, but his hips don’t falter and even his breathing seems steady. Mark knows that he shouldn’t but he finds it kind of infuriating. He just wants to know if he’s doing a good job, wants to know how he can do better. He grips Jenson tighter, strokes him faster, feels the satisfying dampness of his precome. He makes a little sound of appreciation, his own hips squirming on the bed. He wants to see, wants to know what this looks like.

“Okay,” Jenson says, voice only a tiny bit strained. He wraps his fingers around Mark’s wrist and pulls him away. “Lick your hand,” he instructs. “I’ll get your present.”

Mark brings his fingers up to his mouth, appreciating the blindfold now; he doesn’t think he could do this if he could see Jenson watching. He licks across his fingers, picking up the taste of Jenson there. It’s not as strong as real come and it feels like a tease, or maybe a promise. He can feel the bed shift as Jenson leans over, can hear him looking through his bag. Knowing that Jenson is distracted he feels like he can indulge a little more, sucking his fingers into his mouth, sliding his tongue over them, trying to savour every last drop.

“You’re keen,” Jenson comments. Mark makes a noise around his fingers. “Mine now though.”

He pulls Mark’s hand away and Mark almost expects him to start sucking on it. Instead he finds it drawn up above his head, his other hand brought to join it, and then Jenson is winding something around his wrists, binding them together.

“I learnt how to do this online,” Jenson tells him. “You have to tell me if it’s too tight or it’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Mark assures him, surprised by how relaxed his voice sounds. He likes the thought of Jenson researching this just for him; it makes him feel taken care of.

“Shit,” Jenson grits out suddenly. It makes something go cold inside Mark.

“What?”

“No, nothing, sorry,” Jenson mutters. “We were supposed to talk about safewords. I forgot. We’ll do it later. For now, just tell me if you want to stop, I won’t second guess you. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. The thought of safewords makes him feel a bit queasy. He can’t imagine he’ll need one, certainly not right now. Jenson wouldn’t push his limits that quickly, would he?

“Okay, we’re good,” Jenson says, the words sounding like they’re directed more towards himself than at Mark. He puts the finishing touches to his knots. “That feel okay?”

“Feels... yeah,” Mark replies, going shy at the last minute. He’s not sure he could really honestly put into words how it makes him feel though. He might not be tied _to_ anything, might still be able to get up and leave if he wants to, but he’s severely restricted and he knows there’s no getting out of this without Jenson’s help. That level of helplessness, of reliance, forces him to let go.

“So now you can’t touch me,” Jenson says. “But I can touch you.” He traces a single finger over Mark’s torso as if to prove his point. “Anywhere I want,” he says, pushing Mark’s thighs open wide. Mark resists, trying to close them slightly, but Jenson places a hand on the inside of each of his knees, encouraging them open slowly but firmly. His fingers slide up the insides of Mark’s thighs, a gentle caress over the sensitive skin, and Mark has to bite back a groan as he lets his legs fall open. “That’s better,” Jenson praises.

Mark feels his face glowing, not sure if it’s pride or embarrassment. Jenson’s fingers draw patterns on the insides of his thighs, going up to the crease of his groin and back down to his knees. Mark squirms under his attention, hoping every time for the fingers to go higher, to at least graze his cock, but they never go that far. He whines, lifting his hips needily from the bed, but it doesn’t alter Jenson’s pace, doesn’t seem to affect him at all. Mark wishes he could see Jenson’s face, could tell how much he was enjoying this or maybe work out what his plan is.

Jenson’s hands finally lift away, the teasing promise that Mark read in his touches unfulfilled. Jenson’s fingers land on his hips, sliding up the sides of his torso. After a couple of languid strokes up and down, one of Jenson’s hands deviates from the routine, slipping over to his nipple and giving a little squeeze. Mark makes an irritated noise, gritting his teeth. His nipples aren’t really a hot spot, they don’t do much for him, and he wonders why it’s something Jenson keeps coming back to. Maybe for Jenson this does feel good. He stores the theory away and tells himself he’ll find out if he’s right, if he’s ever allowed to touch again. As Jenson flicks his thumb over Mark’s nipple, Mark knows that he’s frowning.

“Not your favourite,” Jenson observes, and Mark foolishly hopes that might be the end of that, like Jenson is just mapping his body, like Jenson has any intention of being kind to him and handing it to him on a plate. Mark will have to earn that. “How about we try a little positive reinforcement,” Jenson ponders aloud.

He twists Mark’s nipple again, a little harder this time, and then his other hand immediately wraps around Mark’s cock, giving a firm tug. Mark moans, thrusting helplessly into Jenson’s hand, not quite able to process both sensations but just knowing he needs more. Jenson plays with his nipple and his cock in unison, a squeeze of one leading to a squeeze of the other and Mark is writhing beneath him, body lifting from the bed as he tries to make his moans sound somehow grateful.

“Better?” Jenson asks, his voice innocent. Mark just makes a garbled sound in response. He can just imagine the grin on Jenson’s face. “Hey, so, earlier, did I taste good?” Jenson asks, so conversational while Mark feels like he’s coming out of his skin. “My precome I mean,” he adds. “You know, when it was smeared all over your hand and you licked it off.” Mark just moans. “Did I taste good?” Jenson asks again.

“Yes,” Mark all but hisses.

“You want some more?” Jenson asks.

“Yes,” Mark responds.

“Manners,” Jenson prompts.

“Please,” Mark says desperately. “Yes please.” He thinks about adding ‘sir’ but that would be a step too far even for him, even as far gone as this.

“That’s a good boy,” Jenson praises, his hands leaving Mark’s body, and then Mark feels the bed shifting, Jenson moving to straddle his chest. “Open wide then.”

Mark tilts his head back, opens his mouth, and then Jenson’s cock is right there, an offering resting against his lips. He flicks out his tongue, tastes that bitter tang, and moans, parting his lips wider in offering. Jenson presses the tip inside and Mark wraps his lips around it, sucking rhythmically, tongue lapping at the slit to get every drop of him in case this is the only chance he’s given. Jenson groans appreciatively.

“God, you really love it, don’t you?”

Mark moans in response and it’s not his intention but he knows exactly what the vibration of it will do to Jenson. His hips seem to strain slightly and then he pushes further in, not all the way but enough to make Mark have to consciously think about relaxing the muscles at the back of his throat. As Jenson begins to push himself in and out, Mark is overtaken by just how much of his consciousness this passive act consumes. All he has to do is lay there with his mouth open and try not to gag, and yet there’s so many subtleties in it, so many tiny things that he finds himself appreciating.

He sucks, presses his tongue along the underside, laps at the tip whenever he can as Jenson thrusts slow and steady. Mark likes the tells that he’s losing himself, the occasional thrust that goes a fraction deeper than he intends, the waver of his hips as he tries to keep his balance. He imagines what they look like, him laid out, naked, hard, wanting, his hands tied up above his head and his eyes covered as Jenson kneels over him, straining red cock pushing in and out of his stretched out lips. It makes his moan, makes him thrust up into nothing. One of Jenson’s hands grabs hold of his hair, pulls his head back so that he can thrust deeper, and the growl he makes almost has Mark unravelling beneath him.

“Gonna come,” Jenson grits out. “Gonna come and you’re gonna swallow it for me. You’re gonna love it.”

Mark hums around his cock, sucks harder, puts everything he’s got into it. He loves this feeling, being told what to do, what to feel, how to react. It seems so easy, so all consuming, and that’s exactly what he’s been looking for. No distractions and no excuses, just pure wanton feelings, being as filthy as he wants and getting rewarded for it.

Jenson’s hand tightens in his hair as he comes, groaning as he thrusts deeper into Mark’s mouth, pubes against Mark’s nostrils, making him feel blanketed and totally at Jenson’s mercy. The bitter liquid floods his mouth and he only gives one tiny gag before he manages to swallow it all down, throat working reflexively as he feels Jenson shudder from the aftershocks it causes. He feels himself glowing as Jenson finally pulls himself out and he can’t quite tell which ragged breaths belong to whom.

“Next time I might just come on your face and see how much of it you can lick off,” Jenson muses, his voice so wrecked the sound of it makes Mark whimper as much as the suggestion. Jenson shifts off him, slumping down heavily next to him, a hand trailing down Mark’s neck. “Does this work yet?” He tweaks Mark’s nipple, Mark squirming on the bed. “I’m not sure if that’s a good little squirm or a bad one,” Jenson considers. He does it again, following it with a brief stroke of Mark’s cock. Mark moans, lifting his hips and moving into the touch. “We’ll work on that,” Jenson says, both hands leaving Mark as he adjusts himself beside him. “Lick your lips.”

Mark does as he’s told, at first running the tip of his tongue over them and then licking them more fully. Jenson hums his approval and then his finger lands on Mark’s lips, following the path. Mark makes an appreciative noise, parting his lips for him.

“Sucking cock suits you,” Jenson tells him. “I’m kicking myself for not taking advantage when you got on your knees for me. Just think of the things I could have done with you.”

Mark groans, angling his face towards him, trying to rub against him. Jenson shifts again and his hand begins to explore Mark’s body, a sweep of fingertips drawing paths from head to toe. Mark imagines he can see them, lines drawn over him in different colours, a patchwork of sensations to show just how owned he is. It makes him moan, makes him tip his head back, makes him arch his body in a way that he hopes looks like an invitation. It is an invitation. His whole body is an invitation for Jenson to do whatever he wants with.

“Do you want to come?” Jenson asks. It’s that conversational tone of voice again that makes Mark’s need seem so absurd.

“Please,” Mark answers.

“But do you _really_ want to come?” Jenson asks. “I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

“I do,” Mark insists, an edge of fear in his voice. “Please, I do.”

“Doesn’t offend me at all,” Jenson goes on, the sweep of fingertips continuing lazily over Mark’s body. “I could see why you wouldn’t. Draw it out. Take a part of me with you. Something like that? Or are you just a masochist?”

“No,” Mark asserts. “I want to come. Really. Please.”

“If I don’t let you come, does that mean this doesn’t finish?” Jenson muses. “Are you still having sex with me until I let you come? So if I leave you waiting for a week, does that mean I’m fucking you for a week? Imagine that.”

Mark can’t help but imagine it and it makes him whine, makes his body tighten and writhe on the bed. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly behind the mask, curls his hands into fists. “Please,” he begs. “Jenson, please. I need it. Let me come.”

“I’ll let you,” Jenson agrees. “So long as you do the hard work.”

Mark’s not sure what that means until he feels Jenson’s hands on his bound wrists, pulling them down towards his cock. He frowns, uncurling his fingers, trying to work it out.

“If you can make yourself come like this, you go for it,” Jenson tells him. And then he lets go, not touching Mark at all, and Mark feels shaky and far too on display.

He adjusts himself inside the binds and finds there’s just enough give in Jenson’s knots to let him turn his hands palm to palm. He curls his fingers, making a hole for himself to thrust into. As he positions himself, cock sliding into the space between his hands, he feels slightly ridiculous and more turned on than he has in a long time. He plants his feet firmly on the bed, straightens his arms for leverage, and then he begins to move, hips humping upwards, hands moving rapidly up and down, pressing as closely around his cock as he can manage. Everything’s imperfect, reminding him of the awkward handjob he gave Jenson earlier, and he remembers licking Jenson’s precome off his fingers, remembers Jenson coming down his throat.

He groans, the muscles in his arms and legs burning from the strain of what he’s doing, his stomach pulled taut as he feels it all building, his cock painfully hard now, hands moving slickly with his own precome. It’s too much, this strange predicament, and that’s before he tries to imagine how Jenson is looking at him right now. Does he look proud, interested, amused, indifferent? Is Mark putting on a good show? Is that even the point?

The sounds gets stuck in his throat as he comes, hips lifting high off the bed as come arches over his knuckles, landing on his stomach. He whimpers, shaking from the strain, everything in his body wound up so tightly he’s still wondering if it will ever release when he finds himself lying bonelessly in the aftermath.

Jenson moves in close to him, body pressed against Mark’s side, hand reaching across Mark’s body to caress his flank. “God, you’re amazing. That’s so cliché, but fucking hell, Mark.”

Mark shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny. He lifts his bound arms upwards in offering. “Can you...?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jenson replies, moving to sit up before Mark feels the knots being freed, the material starting to fall away. “Was it too tight? Didn’t rub did it?” Jenson asks, voice full of concern as his fingertips lightly trace Mark’s wrists.

“Was fine,” Mark replies, pulling his hands away and pushing the blindfold upwards. He blinks a couple of times against the light before Jenson’s gentle smile comes into focus.

“Hey,” Jenson says softly.

Mark sits up, practically knocking him out of the way. He draws his knees towards himself, feet flat on the bed to balance while he tries to assess if he can stand yet. His head’s a little fuzzy but it’s clearing more by the second. Jenson’s hand traces down his spine and Mark flinches. He shuffles across the bed, bracing himself for a moment before getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Jenson asks.

“Shower,” Mark replies gruffly, heading towards the en suite. “Plenty more bathrooms, help yourself.”

He tries not to think about anything as he turns the shower on. There’s no clothes to strip off while he waits for the water to warm up and he doesn’t want to examine his wrists or acknowledge his reflection so he heads over to the cupboard and spends a little longer than necessary selecting a towel.

He steps under the hot spray of water, tipping his head back and closing his eyes and he runs his hands through his hair. In the darkness he finds his mind conjuring images, going over everything they did, and it makes him feel uneasy. He’s not ready for that scrutiny yet, not quite sure whether he’s worried about feeling ashamed or liking it too much. The thought of himself, legs wide open, being teased and helpless, is one that he can’t quite handle right now.

He opens his eyes again, taking a deep breath and staring at the tile wall opposite him. He doesn’t want to look at his body, doesn’t want to risk seeing any evidence, doesn’t want to think about what he must have looked like. He washes himself clean and tries not to acknowledge the dull thrum of arousal that still heightens his senses, even as wasted as he feels.

When he gets back into the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he’s glad to see that Jenson is gone. He couldn’t handle cutesy pillow talk or affectionate concerns. The evidence is there though, the rope folded neatly and placed beside the blindfold on Mark’s bed like some kind of offering. Mark grabs them and shoves them in the drawer by the bed.

He pulls on jeans and a T-shirt and heads downstairs, pausing in the doorway when he finds Jenson sitting on his sofa, a cup cradled between his hands. “Hi,” he says automatically.

Jenson looks up at him. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” Mark says, a little too defensively. “Are you drinking tea? You’re such a cliché.”

“That warranted a bloody good cup of tea,” Jenson says, giving him a little grin before taking a sip. He sighs as he pulls the cup away, looking up at Mark with a serious expression. “Listen...”

“No,” Mark says, unable to hide his irritation. “We’re done, you don’t get to crawl around in my brain right now. Okay?”

Jenson looks a little sheepish. “Okay.”

Mark gives a nod and walks through the room, heading for the kitchen. He grabs himself a bottle of water from the fridge and twists the cap off, taking a sip. He knows he’s being ridiculous, over-dramatic, and he hates himself for it because it’s not him. It’s just insecurity, the fact that this is suddenly real and he has to work out how to deal with everything that makes him feel, but none of that’s Jenson’s fault. He shouldn’t be taking it out on him.

He heads back through to the living room, flopping down on the large sofa by Jenson’s side. There’s a gap between them and Mark stares at it. He wants to close it, wants to lean against Jenson, but he doesn’t want to be needy. It has nothing to do with the possible reaction, he gets the impression Jenson would cuddle him in a heartbeat, it’s all about pride. Mark’s never needed anyone and he’s not going to fucking start now.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jenson asks.

Mark looks up at him, surprised. “What? No. Why are you asking that?”

“Because the second I untied you you couldn’t get away from me fucking quick enough,” Jenson says. “And now I’m getting the cold shoulder like you were hoping I’d have gone by now.”

“No,” Mark dismisses. “Mate, that’s...” He sighs. “I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s a bit much. I’m kind of trying to process it all.”

“Hey, it’s a bit much for me too,” Jenson tells him. “I thought I was doing what you wanted but then you went all weird on me afterwards so I assumed, quite reasonably I think, that I must have fucked it up.” He shifts in his seat, looking at Mark. “Did I fuck it up?”

Mark can’t help but smile. “You’re a natural. Trust me, mate.”

“Well, to be fair, that’s not what I asked,” Jenson points out.

Mark shakes his head, meeting Jenson’s eyes. “You didn’t fuck it up. You really didn’t. Did exactly what I asked for.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes we ask for things but the reality isn’t always so great,” Jenson says. “One time, I asked this girl, well...” he trails off, looking at Mark sideways. “You probably don’t want to hear this.”

Mark smirks. “I definitely do, mate.”

“Okay,” Jenson agrees, rolling his eyes. “She had this vibrator that she had a total love affair with so one night after watching her use it, I asked her to use it on me. Seemed like the hottest thing in the world at the time. But she was pretty rough and it felt like she was trying to fuck me with an industrial drill or something. Not fun.”

Mark chews on his lip, contemplating the mental images. “You switch?”

“No,” Jenson says. “One time thing. Really didn’t work out for me.”

Mark licks his lips, considering pointing out that a vibrator and a cock are very very different things, but he isn’t sure he really wants to put Jenson on that path right now. They’re already exploring enough new things between them, he doesn’t want to complicate matters further.

“Anyway, yeah, hot in theory and hot in reality are very different things,” Jenson says.

“That was both,” Mark assures him, hating the blush he can feel heating his face. He doesn’t want to be all meek and submissive right now, he wants to hold his head up and talk to Jenson man to man.

Jenson gives an irrigated sigh, reaching forward to put down his cup before turning to face Mark more fully. “Look, whether it was hot or not I fucked up a bit and I’m sorry about that. I got carried away.”

Mark frowns at him. “When did you fuck up?” he asks.

“I told you to say stop if you wanted to stop and then I shoved my cock down your throat,” Jenson points out. Mark feels his face heat again. “I don’t know how I expected you to talk like that. We need a better system.”

“I didn’t want you to stop,” Mark tells him.

“Yeah, but if you did, how would I know?” Jenson asks. “That... I don’t like thinking about that.”

Mark shrugs, looking down at his lap as he speaks in a small voice. “But I like that. That’s something I like. I wouldn’t want you to stop.”

“But what if one day it’s not okay?” Jenson asks. “What if you gag?”

“You’ll notice,” Mark assures him.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Jenson asks.

“You’ll notice,” Mark insists.

“That’s a lot of fucking pressure to put on me, Mark,” Jenson snaps and Mark feels about two inches tall. He’d been so caught up in what he wanted, what he needed, he hadn’t considered all this from Jenson’s point of view. He did drop this all in Jenson’s lap and expect him to just deal with it. Much as it makes Mark cringe, they probably do need to talk about this.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Jenson shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get my head around all this.”

“Right,” Mark agrees.

“So,” Jenson says, his voice determined and much more upbeat. “Safewords.”

“Safewords,” Mark repeats, that uneasy feeling coming over him again. It’s not, he realises, anything to do with Jenson pushing his limits, nor is it to do with worrying about not trusting Jenson. It’s the weakness of admitting his own limits out loud.

“I like quantifiers,” Jenson says. “I think absolutes can be a little limiting. So I’m thinking the traffic light system. Red means stop, orange means slow down or something needs adjusting before we carry on or whatever, and green means, well, go.”

Mark nods. “Works for me.”

“So red is full stop and orange is, you know, you need a breather or some part of it’s not working for you,” Jenson clarifies.

“Yeah,” Mark agrees.

“I also like number scales,” Jenson goes on. “One to ten. So if, say, we’re doing orgasm denial and I want to know how close you are to coming I can ask you for a number and you might say eight if you’re getting really close or you might say four if you have a long way to go. That way I can gauge it without having to be a mind reader.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” Mark says.

“I have,” Jenson agrees. “But then I saw you and I got a little distracted with having to have you right the fuck now so I kind of forgot about the whole thing.”

Mark smiles, that blush creeping back in. “I have no problem with you needing to have me right the fuck now.”

“Oh, I know,” Jenson replies, his voice all flirty and full of lust. He looks at his watch. “I have an early meeting at the MTC tomorrow. So, you know, probably a good idea for me to get back to Woking tonight.”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Jenson agrees. “Got a pretty packed day tomorrow actually. But, uh, if you wanted I could come see you again on Sunday.”

“That sounds good,” Mark replies. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, good,” Jenson says. “Give us a day to recover and we’ll be right back on it again, yeah?”

Mark offers him an amused smile. “Absolutely, mate.”


End file.
